"Hawkeye" Pierce (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notinflictthem) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2024-03-16 08:47 am
notinflictthem) wrote in ph_logs2024-03-16 08:47 am
Then they'll take you to Cloughprior and shove you in the ground (Mingle)
CHARACTERS: Hawkeye and the Veteran’s Poker Club
DATE: March
LOCATION: Hawkeye’s clinic
SITUATION: Poker game (for veterans)
WARNINGS: Presumably discussion of conflict and ptsd
A notice goes up on the board, and Hawkeye sets up the clinic for the occasion. Obviously he’s not moving all his medical supplies out- at the back of his mind is always the possibility that something could happen that demands he put his doctor hat on again. Not choppers, but something.
But he sets up a table and chairs in the middle of the main room, with a stack of cards and some ‘chips’ (acorns, he went out and gathered some acorns, which he’s painted different colours). There’s a flask of his homemade gin, some finger food from the Oak and Iron, and he got a box of cigars for the occasion. Feels just like the conferences from home, only without sandwiches that move and Frank. So, y’know, infinitely better.
Prior to starting, while Hawkeye’s setting up, he’ll engage in some small talk with anyone who shows up early- which, they’ll all be military, it will probably be all of them.
“Ever played poker?”
Or
“Can I get you a drink?”
Or
“Can you grab that tray of implements for me?”
When everyone who’s arriving arrives, Hawk sets himself at the table, one of his surgical lights over top of the table to set the mood.
“Alright- this is poker, it’s a little game we like to play back on earth, because we like losing money. I’m gonna teach you five card draw, just to get us started. I’m going to deal each of you five cards. What you’re looking for is to have the highest hand at the end of the round, then you take the pot. Easy. Hands are ranked by how hard they are to do- if you get numbered cards in order and they’re all the same suit, that’s a straight flush. Then we go four of a kind, which is just that- four of the same number. Full house is if you have three of the same number and a pair of a different numbers in the same hand. Flush is if you have all your cards in the same suit. Then straight, which is by number order but not the same suit, three of a kind, two pair, one pair, and then if you have absolutely nothing we score it by your highest card.”
Hawkeye clears his throat, takes a sip of gin.
“I'll deal to start with, we all bet based on our hands and how confident we are that we’ll have the highest ranking hand, then we discard any cards we want and redraw back up to five. Then we place our final bets, and reveal our hands. You get lost at any point, just ask. Questions?”
Shittalking, chewing the fat, commiseration, and general socializing with Hawkeye during games goes under this header. Tls for your characters welcome in the comments.
DATE: March
LOCATION: Hawkeye’s clinic
SITUATION: Poker game (for veterans)
WARNINGS: Presumably discussion of conflict and ptsd
You need one more drop of poison and you'll dream of foreign lands
A notice goes up on the board, and Hawkeye sets up the clinic for the occasion. Obviously he’s not moving all his medical supplies out- at the back of his mind is always the possibility that something could happen that demands he put his doctor hat on again. Not choppers, but something.
But he sets up a table and chairs in the middle of the main room, with a stack of cards and some ‘chips’ (acorns, he went out and gathered some acorns, which he’s painted different colours). There’s a flask of his homemade gin, some finger food from the Oak and Iron, and he got a box of cigars for the occasion. Feels just like the conferences from home, only without sandwiches that move and Frank. So, y’know, infinitely better.
Prior to starting, while Hawkeye’s setting up, he’ll engage in some small talk with anyone who shows up early- which, they’ll all be military, it will probably be all of them.
“Ever played poker?”
Or
“Can I get you a drink?”
Or
“Can you grab that tray of implements for me?”
At the sick bed of Cuchulainn we'll kneel and say a prayer
When everyone who’s arriving arrives, Hawk sets himself at the table, one of his surgical lights over top of the table to set the mood.
“Alright- this is poker, it’s a little game we like to play back on earth, because we like losing money. I’m gonna teach you five card draw, just to get us started. I’m going to deal each of you five cards. What you’re looking for is to have the highest hand at the end of the round, then you take the pot. Easy. Hands are ranked by how hard they are to do- if you get numbered cards in order and they’re all the same suit, that’s a straight flush. Then we go four of a kind, which is just that- four of the same number. Full house is if you have three of the same number and a pair of a different numbers in the same hand. Flush is if you have all your cards in the same suit. Then straight, which is by number order but not the same suit, three of a kind, two pair, one pair, and then if you have absolutely nothing we score it by your highest card.”
Hawkeye clears his throat, takes a sip of gin.
“I'll deal to start with, we all bet based on our hands and how confident we are that we’ll have the highest ranking hand, then we discard any cards we want and redraw back up to five. Then we place our final bets, and reveal our hands. You get lost at any point, just ask. Questions?”
And the ghosts are rattling at the door and the devil's in the chair
Shittalking, chewing the fat, commiseration, and general socializing with Hawkeye during games goes under this header. Tls for your characters welcome in the comments.
no subject
since he meets Mulcahy later in the eveningand waving a little when he catches the guy's head turning in his general direction.Refocusing on Hawkeye, John lets the chairs go for a second, just enjoying how comfortable this feels. It seems wrong, having something like this--normal, good, his. Friends, people like him, and he knows he's here for a second chance like fucking everybody else but he already showed he didn't deserve his. Not when he got Co killed--
"Thanks, by the way." he finds himself saying after a beat. "For this, the whole get together. Havin' me here...bein' my friend."
He ducks his head, absently reaching out to a nearby chair to adjust it needlessly.
"S' a dangerous thing to be these days."
no subject
He's back to paying attention when Rambo briefly sets the chairs aside, and Hawkeye rubs the back of his neck-
"Well y'know- danger is my middle name, after Franklin. C'mere- bring it in-" he offers, arms out for a hug, "You don't need to thank me, you're an easy guy to get along with."
no subject
"It's, uh...I can't, I'm sorry." he confesses softly, absently rubbing his right bicep with his left hand, brisk and firm--sometimes it helps the pain. "It's--I dunno which screw loose it is, if I ever knew, but it--hurts. When people touch me. S' like I'm bein' burned, better just--to not."
Co's hands burned. Her fingers seared his cheek, scarred him without leaving a mark, her mouth had been so soft and so gentle and even that sweet touch had been too much--but he'd thought there would be a chance for it to get better. Small touches, maybe more later...holding hands, steering her along with a hand on her shoulder, maybe arm pressed to arm on the plane back to America.
Maybe it would never be more than that. Maybe it could have been so much more...but that was taken away from him.
It's better this way. To not--he's learned to live with it, to manage. The best thing to do is just maintain.
"But I 'preciate it. The offer--your friendship--everything." he assures him with a genuine smile. "Just...promise me you won't let it get you killed, huh? People drop like flies around me. But, uh...most people aren't you, so I got hope there."
no subject
"Hey- it's okay, you're contributing to the weekly Pierce rejection fund. If it gets too low my head gets too big and falls off my shoulders," he jokes, trying to ease the tension.
"I'm like a 6'2" cockroach, I don't think you have to worry about that. The number of booby-trapped patients and frontline patients I've dealt with, if I was going to drop dead, I already would have."